AURELIA (Roma Nova Book 4)

by Alison Morton

  It had left me with a floor-to-ceiling sash window overlooking the old town. All I did for the first day was read briefings and find out where everything was. Two days later, Captain Licinia, who’d met me at the airport, was ushered into my new office by my new assistant. Now, Licinia wore her beige and black barrack uniform, her dark brown hair gathered in the same tight chignon. And in her wake was Numerus, his civvy coat dark with spots from the sleet that had started this morning. He propped his umbrella up in the base of the coat stand and came forward as I stood up. We grasped arms and exchanged a brief smile.

  ‘Please, sit.’ I waved them to the visitors’ chairs and waited.

  ‘I’m here to interview Grosschenk’s chauffeur,’ he said, ‘well, ex-chauffeur. Captain Licinia here said she’ll assist, but I wondered if you wanted to be involved?’

  He looked at me steadily, but I couldn’t read him.

  ‘Will it help if I’m present?’ I said. I still hadn’t got to the bottom of why the chauffeur had been willing to testify at my Berlin trial and I wasn’t sure he’d open up about it if I was standing in front of him. ‘No, you do it and I’ll observe,’ I said.

  Numerus blinked. ‘I think that’s best.’ He sounded relieved. ‘He’s Germanic, and even more, a Prussian, so he might respond better to a man questioning him.’

  I chuckled. ‘Were you so worried about offending me?’

  *

  The chauffeur was taller than I remembered, and even watching on a small screen, I could see he still wore the same deadpan expression. But his eyes were wary and I noticed he scratched the side of his neck several times even before Numerus asked him the first question.

  Licinia’s troops had picked the chauffeur up as he sat in a café eating his ‘second breakfast’. Well, he was getting a third cup of coffee and another pastry now as he sat with Numerus in the commercial section’s meeting room. I hunched in front of the videolink monitor with Licinia in the neighbouring room. The technicians had installed a temporary camera and audio feed overnight much to the displeasure of the legation steward. He was still grumbling about possible damage to his decorative plasterwork when I’d inspected it with Numerus first thing this morning. Neither of us could see where the installation technicians had been, nor any damage.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to this interview,’ Numerus started, his disembodied voice clear through the feed.

  ‘Did I really have any choice?’

  Numerus smiled. ‘Please believe me when I say I don’t mean you any harm. All I need is to clear up a few details from your testimony in the Berlin court.’

  ‘The police said nobody could find me.’

  ‘Well, we’re a little more sophisticated than the Royal Prussian Police. We’ll get you back to your apartment completely discreetly.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be moving now.’

  ‘As you wish. I’m particularly interested in the time when you first came across Caius Tellus. Do you know how Grosschenk and he met?’

  ‘I only met him when I went to pick him up at Tempelhof on Herr Grosschenk’s orders. Tellus seemed friendly enough, but he was the sort who expected you to open his door, act deferential and do what he asked. Once, later, he asked me to do something I wasn’t sure about and I said I had to check with Herr Grosschenk. Tellus got dead snotty with me and his eyes turned hard as stone. But in the next second he smiled and said, “of course”. I had to fetch some technician from the airport a few days after he moved in to Herr Grosschenk’s house. A load of electronic stuff and a telex terminal had arrived and this guy had to fit it. He was Roma Novan as well.’

  ‘Did they ever argue?’

  ‘Not that I heard, but Tellus was the dominant one. Herr Grosschenk wanted to please him like a little boy in the playground sucking up to the class bully.’ The chauffeur shook his head. ‘I’d never seen him like that before.’

  ‘Do you know if Tellus had any other connections in Berlin?’

  ‘Creep like that was bound to have, but I didn’t know of any. He received post most days, though.’

  ‘And here in Vienna?’

  ‘Himmel! Don’t tell me he’s here!’ The chauffeur blenched.

  ‘Caius Tellus was sentenced in the Berlin court for silver smuggling and sent to prison for six years, and he was remanded in custody for Grosschenk’s murder,’ Numerus said, looking the chauffeur straight in the eye. ‘He’s hardly likely to be here, is he?’

  *

  ‘You didn’t ask him about his motivation for testifying at my trial,’ I said. Numerus, Licinia and I sat around the table analysing the interview. Numerus had pushed and prodded for another twenty minutes but the chauffeur hadn’t had anything else concrete to say.

  ‘I didn’t think it relevant to our current operation. He said at the time he wanted to get it out of his mind. It seems the gypsy Farkas somehow convinced him talking it out would be cathartic. Anything to stop the Furies chasing around in your head would be a relief, I’d think.’ He shot me a wondering look.

  I shook my head. I’d kept the details of my relationship with Miklós out of all the reports, but Numerus wasn’t stupid.

  ‘Interesting about the electronic and telex equipment, though,’ I said. After a lot of arguing, the Germanic federal police made the Prussians hand it over to us after Caius’s trial for smuggling. That included one of the new portable computing machines. ‘Remarkable, really – a complete computer with large memories, a full colour display, and a tape drive, all packed into a machine that small. It must have set him back a fortune. I’d bet their boffins took it apart to have a look first.’

  ‘What did you expect?’ Numerus said. ‘We’d have done the same.’

  ‘True.’ I grinned at him. ‘So was Caius using this stuff to process the information and calculations quickly enough to manipulate the market?’

  ‘Perhaps, but the Berlin police and the GDKA/OK feds found all the individual transactions were legal as far as they were concerned.’

  I finished my coffee in silence while the other two carried on studying the transcript as if the answer was going to spring out magically.

  ‘Do you want us to track this chauffeur?’ Licinia asked Numerus.

  ‘I don’t think he can give us anything else, so no, thank you, ma’am.’

  ‘We’re not really any further forward, are we?’ I was stating the obvious, I knew, but it was so frustrating. How could an escapee hunted by the supposedly dogged Prussian police, as well as our own Praetorians, still be at large?

  ‘Are we looking at insider information, bribery, or is Caius terrorising people into helping him? My contact in the silver world said there’d been some funny movements on the silver market in the last week or so. Could Caius be manipulating trading to raise funds?’

  ‘Hm, unlikely to be the latter,’ Numerus said. ‘It takes time to set it up and he’s only been on the loose for fifteen days, but I’ll look into it.’ He stood up. ‘Thank you, ladies, for your time. I’d best get back to Berlin.’

  XXIV

  I set off for the Argentaria Prima Vienna office after lunch. Although not a national bank as such, and subject to the same regulatory framework as the other banks, it was our leading institution and the most influential one amongst its peers. The Vienna office was important, not least for its location inside the Germanic Federation, but it had connections into the east. I convinced myself meeting the local AP manager was part of my official role, but deep inside, I knew it was a lead in my hunt for Caius.

  I dismissed the offer of a car; I’d been inside all morning and the sun was strong enough to lift the temperature into double figures. Vienna was a city, but somehow the air was fresh and clear. I drank it in and felt energised.

  Three blocks later, a smiling doorman bowed and swung the glass door open for me. The banking hall resembled an atrium in a private house, but the grey-veined columns rising from the marble floor were much grander than any home could boast. I crossed the inlaid silver and white floor logo of a diad
emed Juno Moneta, protectress of funds, carefully avoiding her unseeing grey eyes; I didn’t want any bad luck from treading on her face. I was ushered into the office of Valeria Festa, the Vienna branch manager. After we’d settled ourselves in soft leather easy chairs, drunk coffee from tiny gold-rimmed cups and exchanged pleasantries, I came to the point.

  ‘I’m looking into possible irregular acts in trading strategic assets, namely, silver.’ I smiled at her. She smiled back. According to Festa’s CV in the latest Argentaria Prima annual report, she was an experienced manager with a solid banking and investment background. Her slim figure in its loden-green suit and silk embroidered blouse made her look the perfect New Austrian resident. The precisely made-up face contrasted with wildly curling brown hair pushed back with tortoiseshell side combs. Despite that homely tone, she held herself confidently and looked directly at me out of dark brown eyes.

  ‘I know you liaise with the Oversight Commission at the Trade Ministry,’ I continued, ‘but has your branch seen any signs of unusual trading or dealing in silver in the last fortnight?’

  ‘Nothing comes to mind, but why do you ask, Countess?’ Her expression didn’t change, but the skin round her eyes tightened.

  ‘Well, with recent events in Berlin, we’re checking every avenue for political and economic fallout,’ I said. She would, inevitably, have heard about my unpleasant time in Berlin; the bankers and traders had an information network second only to the state one, and probably better sometimes.

  ‘I’m afraid all transactions are confidential, so I can’t help you.’

  She gave me a ‘close of conversation’ smile and half rose out of her seat.

  ‘Sorry, but that’s unacceptable,’ I replied. ‘We are talking about a national strategic asset. A crack team of Praetorians is pursuing enquiries in Berlin as it’s regarded as a threat to the state. This is why I’m here talking to you now.’

  She looked down at her desk for a few moments. ‘Very well. Let me call for the recent accounts.’ She lifted the handset on her desk telephone.

  ‘Oh, and while you’re looking, can you confirm whether you operate any Tella accounts here?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s also confidential information. I can’t release that without a written order,’ she shot back a little too quickly.

  ‘Very well. Do you employ any of the Tella family here?’

  ‘That, too, is confidential.’ She gave me another bland, but tight smile.

  *

  ‘She’s lying.’ Prisca Monticola’s voice was flat and hard.

  ‘I’m no accountant,’ I said, ‘but I’ve run estate accounts and I know enough to follow an audit trail through a set of books with my steward. The four accounts sheets her assistant brought up looked in good order. But I found no trace of any silver transactions, either metal or futures.’

  ‘It would be bizarre for the trades I showed you the other week not to go through the Argentaria. They’re the local accredited registration agent for the Commission. You need to nail this, Aurelia. Something’s definitely off. I’m going to dig around here. I’ll get back to you.’

  I’d scarcely cut the call when the oscillating tone identifying an incoming call sounded and Plico’s face appeared on the screen.

  ‘I’ve had the secretary of the Argentaria Prima whingeing at me about privacy, state interference, ultra vires action and all kinds of crap. What are you stirring up there?’

  ‘You won’t let me out in the field, so I’m doing some local research.’

  ‘Can’t leave it alone, can you? I thought the political job would keep you more than busy. And you’re not on case strength.’

  ‘Be realistic, Plico. I have the contacts and the motivation. And I gather from Numerus that you’re not getting anywhere.’

  He said nothing for a second or two.

  ‘All right, what have you got?’ he grumped.

  While I gave him my verbal report and Monticola’s comments, he scribbled notes, his uncombed hair falling over his forehead. Finished, he flicked the strands back with his fingers as if they were tines on a rake.

  ‘It’s circumstantial at best. You obviously ruffled the manager’s plumage.’

  ‘I was sweetness and light. And House Mitela is a significant customer. I expected a friendly welcome, not a blank. Can you have a deeper look at Festa’s background?’

  ‘Surely you don’t expect her to be on the take?’

  ‘Money is one of the strongest motivators of human behaviour, Plico, closely linked to security and power. You know that. We’re talking serious temptation here.’

  ‘I’ll send the enabling paperwork through, but if you’re wrong, you’re finished.’

  *

  Festa was stiff in face and stiff in manner – in full Argentaria Prima manager mode. Tensed up like a disapproving spring, her face was tighter than it had been at my meeting with her the day before yesterday. On the boardroom table, a centimetre away from her hand, were a dozen or so standard files tied with buckled cloth straps, and a box file in front of them that had sprung open due to bulging contents.

  I sat opposite her with Licinia standing behind me and a member of the legation financial staff who was a qualified accountant lounging in the seat next to me. He’d taken a paper pad and ballpoint pen out of his zipped folder and after writing the date, laid his pen down and waited, occasionally clicking his fingers. Irritated enough, I frowned at him and he stopped and sat straighter. After a few moments, a balding middle-aged man with a discreet AP logo on his briefcase was shown in along with another younger man and woman, and Licinia’s optio from the legation.

  ‘Drusus, compliance officer from the Argentaria Prima Head Office,’ the older man said. ‘I apologise, the flight from Roma Nova was delayed.’ He nodded to me and went to sit next to Festa, his colleague. The younger man and woman were from our Trade Department; they’d been made late by picking Drusus up at the airport, and frowned at him as they sat opposite him to my left.

  ‘Very well,’ I said, and distributed copies of the Interior Ministry search order Plico had faxed through. ‘I am disappointed at the lack of cooperation the Argentaria Prima Vienna office and its staff have shown. This meeting is taking up valuable time and taxpayer money. Should the fault lie with the Argentaria, the state will expect reimbursement of those costs.’

  ‘I must protest—’

  ‘As you wish, Drusus,’ I interrupted, ‘but these are the rules and you know them. And we’re wasting more time discussing them.’ I passed him a sheet of paper. ‘This list is in confirmation of the fax sent to you yesterday. To reiterate, please produce immediately the following items: records of all deposits or credits made in the past twenty days, all silver trade transactions, and full details of all accounts held or operated here by the principal members of the Tella family. Moreover, you must provide a full staff list for this office and have the details of each employee to hand, should we wish to see their individual files.’

  Festa slid the bound folders and the box file slowly across the polished surface as if she was handing over her newborn to Pluto himself.

  ‘You may retire to your office, Valeria Festa,’ I said. ‘I will call you when I need you again.’

  She stood and grasped the upper curve of the dark wood chairback and hesitated. After a glance at Drusus, she fixed me with her eyes for several seconds. I refused to break contact. Eventually, she looked away and stalked out of the room. Drusus raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Licinia signalled the optio to follow the manager. I didn’t want Festa running out of the front door.

  After another ten minutes’ silence as the accountant and two trade officials worked on the files and the four accounts sheets I’d been given previously, Drusus gave up fiddling with his glasses case and left. Not quite forty minutes later, the accountant slid the four sheets in front of me. Columns were carefully marked up with tiny squiggles and cryptic numbered notes. The senior trade officer nodded at the accountant who cleared his throat.


  ‘Every transaction that has been recorded appears to have been carefully entered. There is no fault in the methodology.’ He laid a sheet of graph paper on the table in front of me. ‘However, when the transactions for the week before, the two weeks in question and the five days since are plotted, we can see something very interesting.’

  I couldn’t see anything special, only three fluctuating lines with highs and lows marked by little circles. I was the dunce in the room.

  ‘What does this signify?’ I said.

  ‘This line,’ he said pointing to the blue one, ‘shows the general activity of all non-retail transactions – personal deposits, transfers and withdrawals by the general public are excluded. This green one is intra- and inter-government payments executed by the Quaestor’s and Censor’s departments, but this red one…’ His eyes lit up. ‘This one is the commercial trading by Roma Novan businesses and sole traders. And my colleagues here have identified seven anomalies.’

  ‘Anomalies?’

  ‘These movements…’ He tapped several places on the graph with his pen. ‘Although extremely important to us, the global silver market is smaller and more vulnerable to speculation than gold. Even so, these events are unexpected. We’d expect one or two now and again in a month, but not seven in a fortnight.’

  I unclipped the clasp on my handbag and pulled out a folded paper. ‘Do any of these points match up with these dates?’

  The senior trade officer gasped when she saw the copy of Monticola’s coded record. ‘Where did you get this?’ she shot at me, grabbing it.

  Licinia, frowning, took a half-step towards the official, but I signalled her back.